


Chocolate, Strawberry, Vanilla

by ijemanja



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-21
Updated: 2005-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1628888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijemanja/pseuds/ijemanja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people listen to sad music and cry in the rain. Some people don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate, Strawberry, Vanilla

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jennifer-Oksana

 

 

 

 

Cristina's toes are icy against your calf, and her hands a little cold, too, as they slide under the waistband of your briefs and grab your ass. But you forget all about her bad circulation because her mouth is hot when you kiss her and her lips part and you find her tongue with yours.

You're pulling back a little, the tip of her tongue slipping between your lips and back behind her teeth, because you plan on kissing your way over her chin to her throat, or maybe up to her ear, when suddenly the bedroom door is flung open.

You lift your head and squint in the sudden light from the hall in time to see the door slam against the wall, rebound, and almost hit Meredith in the face. She manages to stop it just in time, pushes it back open - a little more carefully this time - and declares dramatically:

'I hate them. I hate them!' She says it again, louder. 'I hate her and I hate him, and I hate him with her. And I _hate_ that I'm this hate-filled person and _you two_ ,' she points a finger at you and Cristina accusingly, 'You two aren't helping.'

Then she folds her arms over her chest and looks at you expectantly. And sways. Just a little.

'Meredith?' Cristina says as she shifts out from under you and sits up.

'Hi, Mer,' is all you say as you lean over the side of the bed to scoop your tank top up off the floor and pull it on.

'I don't get it,' is all Meredith says, and throws her hands up in the air. 'I mean,' she continues, 'Am I supposed to keep pretending I don't know about this? You two... I don't get it.'

Cristina flips on a lamp. 'Are you drunk?' she asks.

'This thing with you two. All the lesbian sex,' Meredith says as she moves over to the bed, 'Is what I'm talking about.'

You stare up at her. 'You know about it? We didn't think you knew.'

She shrugs and says reasonably: 'Well I do live here.'

'You know?' Cristina turns to you in mild surprise. 'She knows.'

And you grin. 'Well, she does live here.'

'And you didn't tell me,' Meredith accuses, still frowning.

Cristina leans towards you and mutters: 'I think she's drunk.'

'Maybe that's a good thing,' you reply in a stage whisper.

Cristina gives you a look.

'What? I meant because she's taking it so calmly,' you protest, still more amused than anything.

Meredith, however, doesn't seem to see the humour in the situation. 'You've just been running around behind my back. And you call yourselves my friends.'

'Sorry, Meredith,' you say.

'Yeah, sorry Meredith,' Cristina adds dutifully.

She shakes her head, and then drops down onto the bed suddenly. 'I don't get it. You two - you like boys. Don't you like boys?'

'Yes,' Cristina says.

'Sure,' you say.

'And then this?'

'Yep.'

'Uh-huh.'

Meredith sighs, her eyes drooping. She shrugs. 'Okay, then.' She climbs over your legs and flops down between the two of you. 'I'm drunk.'

'We noticed,' you say dryly.

'This is nice, though.' She sighs again, closing her eyes and smiling as she snuggles her face into a pillow. 'Cosy.'

You look at Cristina over your friend's semi-conscious form. She rolls her eyes and you have to hold back a laugh.

Meredith's eyes snap open suddenly. 'Much better,' she says, 'Than my big empty room where all I do is lie awake or - when I do get to sleep - have hot sweaty dreams about him like some pathetic Danielle Steele heroine.'

'You have to get over him,' Cristina tells her bluntly. 'Men are stupid anyway - a big fat stupid waste of time, not to mention _bad_ for your career.'

'But you love Burke,' Meredith points out.

'I do not!' she splutters. 'Who ever said anything about loving anyone? Who would say that? That's stupid.'

'You do.'

' _Insane_ and stupid.'

'You do,' you throw in, because driving Cristina crazy is always fun.

'Stupid,' Cristina mutters, throwing herself onto her back and staring at the ceiling in a disgruntled manner.

'Well, if it makes anyone feel better, I don't love Alex,' you offer after a moment of silence from the other two.

'Good!' they reply at once.

'Because speaking of stupid,' Cristina adds.

'You've got bad taste in men. Worse than me,' Meredith tells you seriously.

And you sigh. 'I know.'

'But good taste in women,' she adds, turning her head to smile at Cristina.

'Yeah.'

'Thank you, Meredith. I forgive you for saying that thing about Burke that I don't do.'

Meredith continues to look happy for all of two seconds. Then her face falls again.

'You know who has _bad_ taste in women?'

You share another look with Cristina as Meredith - sad, drunk, oblivious Meredith - starts up about McDreamy again. Cristina gives a little helpless half-shrug and you know that the rest of the night is going to be about Meredith.

It's not that you mind all that much really, because it's Meredith, after all. And besides, you like taking care of people - you're good at it.

You just wish she could have waited another few minutes before she came bursting in.

*

'And they're both there on the elevator, and I get on, and then there's just this awkward silence. And I kissed him in that elevator, you know. That's _our_ elevator.'

You make a sympathetic noise. Cristina nods as best she can with her face propped up on her hand.

'She should have to take the stairs.'

'Seriously -' Meredith starts to say, but a voice from the doorway interrupts her.

'Hey, what's going on?' It's George, looking half asleep with bed-head and his pyjamas on. He spots Cristina and gives a little wave. 'Wow, everybody's here tonight.'

'Sorry Georgie,' you say from where you're leaning against the headboard with your legs stretched out and ankles crossed. 'Full house - no room for you.'

'And anyway,' Meredith adds. She's still flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. 'No boys allowed.'

'But,' George protests, 'You made me an honorary girl last week, remember? When Izzie had cramps and I brought home chocolate?'

'And you said that wasn't funny and made us promise to never, ever say it again,' you point out.

'Which is too bad, because that's pretty damn funny,' Cristina says.

'Did you bring chocolate this time?' Meredith asks, craning her head to look at him.

George shifts on his feet. 'No?' he says uncertainly.

She flops back down again. 'No boys allowed.'

He frowns then, his next words slightly testy: 'Want me to shut the door so you can have your little sexist slumber party in private?'

'Yes,' all three of you reply immediately.

He doesn't move. 'Really?'

Cristina sits up and glares at him. 'Either lose the penis or get lost, George. Meredith is having a crisis, here.'

'She's questioning her sexuality,' you add helpfully.

'She is?' George's eyes go wide, as Meredith covers her face with her hands.

Cristina throws a pillow at his head. She has good aim.

'I'm - _ow_ ,' he shoots Cristina a look, and lifts a hand to smooth his hair. 'I'm _going_.'

Once George has shuffled out, shutting the door after him, Cristina falls back beside Meredith.

'Now I want chocolate,' she says.

That, you think, is the most sensible thing anyone has said for a good long while.

'Me too.'

'Yeah. Chocolate,' Meredith sighs.

'You'd only throw it up,' Cristina tells her.

Meredith frowns. 'I'm not that drunk.'

'You are. She's a total lightweight,' you confide in Cristina over Meredith's head.

'I know.'

'I'm not. And I'm not questioning my sexuality,' Meredith informs you suddenly. 'Although I think I should be questioning yours. I mean. Really,' she huffs. 'What about Dr Burke? And Alex -' she turns to you. 'Whatever's going on with you and him.'

You're happy to explain.

Actually, you're just glad the topic of Meredith's failed love affair seems to have been left behind. For the moment, at least.

'This isn't anything to do with them,' you tell her. 'They're men, and when they're not sucking to high hell they're great, but sometimes you just want something more...' you trail off as you gesture vaguely.

'Cunt,' Cristina says, putting it more succinctly and efficiently than you ever could. 'Sometimes you just want cunt.'

'Exactly,' you agree.

'I need another drink,' Meredith announces, and promptly struggles up and clambers back over your legs.

You watch as she makes her way a little unsteadily from the room.

'I don't think she's ready for the 'c' word,' you say mildly.

Cristina shakes her head. 'They never are.'

Some people, you think, never see it as anything other than a dirty word.

'We should go find her,' Cristina says then.

'Yeah.'

'Because we can't just go back to doing what we were doing before she showed up.'

'No,' you say with a sigh. 'That would be rude.'

*

Meredith is in the kitchen, head buried in a cabinet, when you find her.

'Am I completely imagining it,' she says without looking at you, 'Or did we buy margarita mix the other day at the store? Because I remember George picking it up and saying 'hey, who doesn't love margaritas' and then Izzie, you said something like, 'okay, but now we need to get tequila'. Or am I completely imagining that conversation? Which would be weird, because I already found the tequila.'

She swings the bottle in her hand wildly to demonstrate. Cristina makes a grab for it. You take her by the shoulders and steer her towards a seat at the table.

'Sit down, before you break something and open a vein.'

'But,' she protests, 'I'm making margaritas.'

'We'll take care of it. Sit.'

Meredith sinks pathetically onto a chair, and watches as the two of you locate the misplaced margarita mix, and the ice and the glasses. Soon there are cocktails for everyone and this, you think as you settle at the table and take a long, cool swallow, isn't the worst way tonight could have turned out.

Meredith sighs into her glass, chin propped on one hand.

'It's just that I'd tell you, you know, if I was ever having illicit lesbian encounters with anyone,' she accuses then, eyes narrowing as she reaches out to poke Cristina's arm.

You lean across the table towards them. 'We didn't think we could tell you.'

'Why?'

'Well,' you begin, 'It's just that...'

'You're just _so_ vanilla, Meredith,' Cristina says flatly.

'We figured you might be freaked out,' you add.

'Well maybe I would've wanted to join in, d'you ever think about that?' she demands, her words slurring together a little.

'No,' Cristina says.

'Not really,' you say.

'Well I have problems,' Meredith huffs. 'Serious relationship problems. And stress. And I hate men sometimes too and just want to forget the entire stupid gender exists -'

'We all do. Some people just deal with it differently,' you tell her. 'Some people take bubble baths and listen to sad music and cry in the rain - and it's not like there's anything wrong with that. There _isn't_ ,' you insist when Cristina gives you a look.

Meredith frowns. 'Well there's something wrong with both of you,' she says dourly. Then she smiles and adds: 'You're not _nearly_ drunk enough.'

*

'He's all perfect and well-adjusted and it lulls you into a false sense of security because he's just so -'

'Perfect,' Meredith supplies from her hunched over position, her head resting on the table.

'Right,' Cristina continues. 'Only, you suddenly realise there are all these expectations heaped on top of you, because when you're with some great, perfect guy then _you_ have to be great and perfect too, or you don't match. And then suddenly it's years of perfectly good obsessive self-involvement down the drain.' Cristina shakes her head, staring off into space. 'It started out as just sex, you know. And I was fine with that.'

'It started out as a one night stand with a stranger,' Meredith counters glumly. 'And I was fine with _that_. He was the one who pursued me. And all the time, not nearly as available as he seemed.'

You've been listening to all of this, from both of them, for a while now. Since you're not in the mood for bitching about the current object of your affection - not that you'd describe what you feel for Alex as 'affection', really - it's kind of boring.

The tequila is helping, of course, but as you look at the two of them across the table - Meredith slumped over and ready to pass out at any moment, Cristina sitting with her head lolled back and her hands folded over her stomach - you're starting to think that you'd really rather be back in bed. With Cristina, or even alone and asleep, you're not fussed at this point.

That's not going to happen any time soon, though, so you take another long swallow of your drink and put the empty glass down on the table as you stand up and announce:

'I have to go to the bathroom. And you two,' you add, looking down at them, ' _Really_ have to talk more about how your boyfriends suck.'

'I think we can do that,' Cristina is saying as you leave the room. 'You know, if we really focus.'

*

You come back from the bathroom to find the kitchen empty, and you stand there, a little nonplussed, as you survey the damage your little midnight cocktail party has wreaked.

This will not be fun to face in the morning, you think.

And then you go in search of your missing friends, and finally track them down back in your bedroom.

'Well that was fast,' you say, leaning in the doorway with your arms crossed.

'I think I'm starting to get it,' Meredith says, smiling slyly as she stops kissing Cristina and looks up at you.

'That's good, Meredith,' you only just have time to say, before Cristina starts up with an explanation.

'She jumped me!'

'I'll bet she did.'

'She tricked me into helping her upstairs, and then she jumped me!'

'I was feeling left out,' Meredith pouts. 'You two are having all this fun, uncomplicated sex without me.'

'Well what do you know,' you drawl, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind you. 'A drunk, depressed, bi-curious girl - that's really one for the history books.'

'I am drunk and depressed. And horny. So give me a break.'

Cristina shrugs at you. 'At least now we can see what all the fuss is about.'

You look at Meredith, who has gotten tangled up pulling her shirt over her head, and can't help laughing as you join them on the bed.

'Are you kidding? She's not the only horny one.'

*

You drag you tongue over Cristina's clit once, twice. You can feel Meredith's hand on your back and turn your head briefly to confide in her: 'She tastes like strawberries.'

Cristina pushes herself up on her elbows at that and looks down at you. 'I do not!'

'Oh, like you would know?' you shoot back.

'Shush.' Meredith puts her hands on Cristina's shoulders and pushes her back down, scolding gently, 'Don't be difficult.'

You focus back on Cristina's cunt and lick the length of it. When you reach her clit you fasten your lips over it, teasing with your teeth until the smooth, gentle hands on your back draw your attention again.

'Can I?' Meredith asks, hopeful and eager-looking.

You rise up and push your mouth against hers and she makes a happy little sound as she tastes Cristina on your tongue. Your hands find her breasts, small and firm in your palms, and she makes that noise in her throat again, only a little more urgently as she presses closer.

'Hey, left hanging over here,' comes Cristina's voice just then, and you both look down at her, lying there with her legs still splayed and a demanding expression on her face.

You roll your eyes as you move over and stretch out beside her, letting Meredith take over for you. Your fingers play in Meredith's long, smooth hair as her head moves between Cristina's thighs.

'How's she doing?' you ask, fingers dancing up to circle a belly-button.

'A little sloppy, but getting there,' Cristina concedes.

A muffled voice comes from down between her legs: 'Stop talking about me.'

Cristina sucks in a sharp breath then. 'Yeah, she's getting there.'

You crane your head to see what's going on. 'That would be those famous Grey hands at work.'

'Stop it,' comes another growl.

You smile and lower your chin to Cristina's chest, as your fingers leave her body and move down between your thighs.

*

Meredith climbs up Cristina's body and stretches out on top of her.

'Nothing like strawberries,' she declares, once Meredith's mouth leaves hers.

You nip her ear and Meredith just shakes her head, pushes her hair back from her face and kisses Cristina again.

Meredith's back is long and narrow. She's almost too thin - you can see her ribs and count every vertebra. And you don't want to interrupt their little make-out session but you can't resist running your fingers down the ladder of her spine, following with your tongue till you reach her ass and the scent of her rises up to meet you, sharp and tangy.

You look up and see Cristina blissed out with her arms flung above her head while Meredith licks her nipple. You reach between Meredith's thighs and find her clit with the tip of your finger, and with a wicked smile you lower your head and run your tongue down her crack.

Her response is to hum her approval against Cristina's skin and push back against you. And Meredith, you're beginning to think, might not be quite so vanilla as you thought.

*

'Oh my god,' you say, and bite down on your lip till it hurts.

They're on either side of you, each with a hand between your legs and you don't know whose fingers are inside you but you don't care since they're curling in just the right way in just the right spot.

Your clit is swollen and aching and whoever's drawing little teasing circles over and around is driving you crazy. You reach down and catch her hand - Meredith's, you realise, it's Meredith's hand - and her slick fingers slide easily against yours and you press down harder, just where you need it.

'She gets impatient,' Cristina says.

She's propped on her side with her head in her hand, and you glare up at her.

'Can you blame me?' you grind out between gritted teeth, all the while moving those fingers over your clit.

With Meredith's fingers sandwiched between your hand and your cunt you're almost there. You squeeze your eyes shut in anticipation and it hits you fast, then, and thank god, finally you're coming.

It's good, and when it's over your smile and sigh and roll over to stretch out on your stomach, resting your cheek on your hands. Cristina stays where she is, and brings her hand up to her mouth.

'Mmm,' she says. 'Tastes like... peppermint. And hey, is that a hint of pineapple?'

'Shut up,' you drawl, trying not to laugh and failing.

On your other side, you can hear Meredith snickering softly. She loops an arm under your elbow and hugs it to her and you turn your head so you're facing her.

'Meredith, you should drink some water and take an aspirin,' you tell her.

'Maybe later,' she mumbles, her eyes already closed.

You don't feel much like moving, either, and you only had two margaritas - nothing compared with her alcohol intake over the course of the evening.

You might joke about Meredith being a lightweight, but she really, really isn't.

But at any rate, you're still not getting up and it's Cristina who yanks the rumpled covers out from under your legs, pulls them up and straightens them out. Then she turns off the light and settles down next to you.

Her feet are still cold.

*

You yawn as you shut the refrigerator and pour yourself a glass of orange juice.  
Cristina and Meredith are propped up at the table amidst the carnage of the previous night, both looking a little worse for wear after so little sleep. You probably don't look so great, either.

Cristina leans in towards Meredith, whose jaw cracks as she catches your yawn.

'The important thing,' she stresses, 'Is not to tell anyone.'

'Who would I tell?' Meredith grouses back at her. 'Well I might tell you two, but you already know.'

'And especially,' she goes on, 'Any guys. Trust me, they'd get all creepily interested in the details - this is like the number one male porno fantasy situation of all time.'

'We'd be the _naughty interns_ ,' you say in a breathy, over-the-top phone-sex voice. And roll your eyes for good measure.

'Again, I have to say, who would I tell? You're the only friends I've made since I moved here.'

'Not true. There's George.'

'And...' you think about it for a moment, 'Joe, the bartender?'

'Well, I'll make a note of not mentioning the orgy to them, okay?'

Cristina looks at her for a moment suspiciously, then nods once. 'Okay.'

The three of you go back to your breakfast.

'George might already know, you realise that, right?' Cristina speaks up suddenly.

'Well, he does live here,' you say with a shrug.

Meredith gestures dismissively with a butter knife. 'He was asleep. And even if he wasn't, he wouldn't say anything.'

Cristina shakes her head, staring moodily down into her coffee cup. 'Just wait for the creepy interest to start.'

'He won't tell anyone, I won't tell anyone - no one will tell anyone anything about anything,' Meredith insists.

She takes a bite of her toast, and chews thoughtfully for a long moment before swallowing.

'We can do it again, though, right?' she says.

Cristina looks at you. Then you both look at Meredith.

'Oh, absolutely,' she says.

'Absolutely,' you say, and smile as you take a sip of juice.

end

 

 

 


End file.
